


3441

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Trevor joins Philip at night.





	3441

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fair warning I haven’t finished the show yet. But I’m loving it so far.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

In terms of freedom and intellectual stimulation, the abandoned warehouse they’re using for headquarters is far superior to Trevor’s “home.” In terms of creature comforts, it definitely isn’t. The couch he’s been crashing on is leagues better than the sleeping conditions he was born to, but a fair ways behind what he’s grown used to at his “parent’s” house. He can put up with it, of course. Trevor can put up with a great number of disappointments. But after too many nights spent with his feet sticking over one armrest, he reasons that he doesn’t really _have_ to put up with this particular problem.

He squirms out of his blanket and makes his way across the cold concrete floor by memory and the low light of the always-on monitors. He considers knocking on the door to Philip’s “bedroom,” then decides not to bother—Philip’s probably asleep. 

He opens up and slips inside, and when he sees Philip lift just enough off the pillow to squint at him, he asks, “Mind if I sleep here?”

Philip blinks groggily at him. Trevor patiently waits while Philip rubs his eyes, shakes off what must’ve been a bad dream, and mumbles, “Uh... sure? I can take the couch...”

He starts to get up, but Trevor’s already strolling over and insisting, “It’s fine; we can share.”

Philip opens his mouth but doesn’t argue, instead deciding, “Sure.” He flops back down while Trevor strips out of his hoodie—he needs the extra layer on the couch, but Philip’s mattress looks soft and warm enough as it is. Philip eyes him as he slips under the thick duvet and sidles up to the middle of the bed. There’s only one pillow, which Philip is three-quarters down on—Trevor perches on the very edge of it. 

Philip blinks more at him, then mutters, “You’re kind of close.”

“I know.”

There’s a moment of booming silence. Trevor shuts his eyes and knows from decades of experience that Philip’s still watching him. Eventually, in an effort to ease Philip’s tension with an inconsequential subject change, Trevor notes, “We should find a better headquarters.”

“Better?”

“Some place less... cold. More personal.” Maybe a nice house somewhere. Or a barn, like Ellis’. 

Philip counters, “It’s good to stay low and nondescript.”

“But it’s not very comfortable.”

Philip all but whispers, “We’re used to uncomfortable.”

It’s too true. Trevor creaks his eyes open. “Maybe, but... Mac, Marcy, Carly... even me, if I go back to my ‘parents’... we all have nicer places. You get the short end of the stick being stuck here.”

Philip’s brows knit together—maybe he hasn’t heard that phrase yet. Then he seems to clue in and grunts, “Yeah, I already got a raw deal.”

Trevor nods. It’s still nerve-wracking to realize the Director can make mistakes—can leave good people like Philip and Marcy in defective hosts. But they’ve both gotten better. Trevor says, low and serious, “You’re doing well.”

The sincerity seems to resonate in Philip. He’s quiet for a moment before murmuring, “You too.” Trevor offers a half smile. It’s been easier for him. His host was in relatively perfect health—far better than the shell he left behind. Philip continues, “It must be weird having to go to school again.” Trevor shrugs. Classes are a waste of time, but they’re not hard. When Trevor doesn’t add anything to that, Philip adds, “How are things with your girlfriend?”

“I think we broke up.”

“Oh. Uh... sorry...?”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t really date her—she’s underage, and I’m forever old.” Philip snorts, which makes Trevor grin. He was never even remotely interested in her and couldn’t be. She seems like a sweet girl, despite a few bad influences, but she’s a _girl_, and can’t offer him anything intellectually. Or even emotionally. “Besides, it’s hard to be with people from the twenty-first. They can’t keep up with us mentally, and we can never be honest with them.”

Philip points out, “By that logic, you can’t date anybody. You’re older than everyone, even other travelers.” He pauses, then amends, “Although, I guess you at least look young and spry. That’s got to count for something.” 

“I look like a teenager.”

“You don’t, actually. Just a handsome young man.”

Grinning wider, Trevor returns, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Philip makes a derisive noise and scoffs, “C’mon. I look like the decimated addict I am.”

“Former addict. You’re in recovery.” 

Philip looks away like he doesn’t believe it or it doesn’t matter. Trevor bridges the short gap between them and slips his arm out from under the blanket, reaching over to cup Philip’s cheek. That draws Philip’s eyes right back. Trevor thumbs his soft skin, feels the stubble along his chin, and combs back through his long hair, noting and treasuring every little point of contact and sensation—everything is more vibrant, more beautiful, in the twenty-first. He tells Philip with complete surety, “You’re a good man, Philip. You _are_ good looking, and more importantly, you’re clever and compassionate. Anyone would be lucky to have you in any century.” He slowly withdraws his hand again. Philip stares at him.

Philip asks, “Did you come in here to seduce me?”

Trevor snorts. “I’m too old for games like that.”

Philip lifts one eyebrow. The corner of his lip twitches like he wants to grin but is trying not to. Trevor has no problem telling him, “But I do like you. I like being able to be _close_ to people, to savour that human presence, to have these little things people take for granted in this time. Like just lying here with you. So... can we just enjoy that?”

A soft smile blossoms on Trevor’s lips. He quietly admits, “I’m glad you’re staying here with me.”

Trevor shuffles close enough to affectionately bump his forehead against Philip’s. Philip’s eyes close, but the grin stays on. 

Trevor closes his eyes too and allows himself to sleep.


End file.
